Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.

But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.

They love least that let men know their loves.

How many a holy and obsequious tear hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, as interest of the dead!

I'll have no husband, if you be not he.

King Henry: But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suffolk: No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protectors hawks do tower so well; They know their masters loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloucester: My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.